Harry's Loophole
by ThinkingSpeck
Summary: Harry has been entered in the Triwizard Tournament, but during the shouting match with Ron he realises that he doesn't actually have to risk his life and look like a fool in front of everyone - he really only needs to show up for each task and make a token effort. Single-point-of-departure fic, departing early in book 4. Some text borrowed from JK Rowling.
1. Chapter 1: Confrontation

**Chapter One: Confrontation**

Harry wanted more than anything to find Ron and Hermione, to find a bit of sanity, but neither of them seemed to be among the roistering Gryffindors in the common room. Insisting that he needed to sleep, and almost flattening the two Creevey brothers as they attempted to waylay him at the bottom of the stairs, Harry finally managed to shake everyone off and climb up to the dormitory.

To his great relief, he found Ron was lying on his bed in the otherwise empty dormitory, still fully dressed. He looked up when Harry slammed the door behind him.

"Where've you been?" Harry said.

"Oh hello," said Ron.

"He was grinning, but it was a very odd, strained sort of grin. Harry suddenly became aware that he was wearing the scarlet Gryffindor banner that Lee Jordan had tied around him. He hastened to take it off, but it was tied very tightly. Ron lay on the bed without moving, watching Harry struggle to remove it.

"So," he said, when Harry had finally removed the banner and thrown it into a corner. "Congratulations."

"What d'you mean, congratulations?" said Harry, staring at Ron. There was definitely something wrong with the way Ron was smiling; it was more like a grimace.

"Well... no one else got across the Age Line," said Ron. "Not even Fred and George. What did you use - the Invisibility Cloak?"

"The Invisibility Cloak wouldn't have got me over that line," said Harry slowly.

"Oh, right," said Ron. "I thought you might've told me if it was the cloak... because it would've covered both of us, wouldn't it? But you found another way, did you?"

"Listen," said Harry, "I didn't put my name in that goblet. "Someone else must've done it."

Ron raised his eyebrows.

"What would they do that for?"

"I dunno," said Harry." He felt it would sound melodramatic to say, "To kill me."

Ron's eyebrows rose so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his hair.

"It's okay, you know, you can tell _me_ the truth," he said. "If you don't want anyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're bothering to lie, you didn't get into trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Lady's, that Violet, she's already told us all Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to do end-of-year tests either..."

"I didn't put my name in that goblet!" said Harry, starting to feel angry.

"Yeah, okay," said Ron, in exactly the same sceptical tone as Cedric. "Only you said this morning you'd have done it last night, and no one would have seen you... I'm not stupid, you know."

Harry glared and outright growled at his best friend. "For crying out loud, Ron, what do you want me to say? I'm a fourth year - there's no way I can compete with Cedric or Fleur, let alone bloody Krum. Even if I somehow manage not to get injured or killed, I'm definitely going to look like a complete prat in front of everyone. Do you really think I want that? Get it through your head, Ron - I don't _want_ any of this. I hate the fame I already had, and I already have way more money than I know what to do with. There's absolutely no sane reason why I'd want to enter myself in the tournament, even if I knew how. Which I don't, by the way. Come on, you saw how shocked I was when my name came out. I never asked for this, Ron, I swear."

Ron rolled off his bed and strode to Harry, towering over him threateningly. "If you don't want it, then why are you doing it? Why not just quit?"

"Um... Binding magical contract? I lose my magic if I quit, and I'd rather look like a fool than lose my magic."

"So just don't try. Show up at the events, but don't actually try. You'd still be competing, but without all the danger. But you won't, will you? You can't resist the glory, whether you entered your name or not - you just can't stay away from the spotlight."

Harry was staring at Ron, slack-jawed. After a moment his face snapped into a huge grin.

"Of course! Ron, you're brilliant! That's exactly what I'll do, and to hell with anyone who doesn't believe me, and I don't even care whether they think I'm a hero or a villain or whatever."

Ron was now staring at Harry; if anything, he was even more stunned than Harry had been a moment before.

"You... you really mean that? You'd really just give it up like that?"

"Of course I would! I mean of course I will! I mean, what's to give up? It's not as if I could actually win the tournament - like I said, I'd just be making a fool of myself and maybe getting hurt or killed. No thanks."

A smile spread slowly across Ron Weasley's face, happy and relaxed.


	2. Chapter 2: Aftermath

**Author's note:** It occurs to me that this Harry is somewhat OOC - he's much more observant, and he actually has a sense of humour. I'll probably address the sense of humour in text, but for now at least I'm just leaving it implied that the shock of stepping away from his expected role has jolted Harry into thinking much more about the world around him (and hence paying more attention to it).

* * *

When Harry entered the common room the next morning, he was met by yet another raucous round of applause. He briefly considered telling them his decision from the previous night, but caution prevailed and he slipped through to the portrait hole as quickly and quietly as he could; behind him, only a handful of Gryffindors besides Ron and Hermione even seemed to notice that he wasn't lapping up the adulation. Ron and Hermione, incidentally, were talking quietly in a corner - they seemed to be trying, with limited success, to ignore the mindless celebrations around them.

As Harry had expected, he found much the same reception in the Great Hall - from the Gryffindor table, anyway. Hufflepuff, House of the loyal, had closed ranks around their champion Cedric - they were furious that he had been upstaged, and they were making their position perfectly clear. Slytherin, while not personally affected, had seized on the opportunity to tear down the Boy Who Lived - while the Hufflepuffs merely glared, the Slytherins jeered and catcalled as Harry entered. He could even hear them over the cheers of the Gryffindors. As he reached the Gryffindor table, he noticed a great many thoughtful faces at the silent Ravenclaw table - apparently they weren't yet sure what to think. The ghost of a smile flickered across Harry's face at the sheer delightful novelty of someone actually reserving judgement on something to do with him, rather than just jumping to conclusions as everyone else always seemed to.

No sooner had Harry sat down than the Weasley twins appeared out of nowhere and sat down on either side of him.

"Harry -" one of them said excitedly,

"- how'd you do it?" finished the other.

"Our Ageing Potion didn't work -"

"- the whole school knows that -"

"- so what do you know that we don't?"

Harry threw up his hands in mock despair, noting as he did so that quite a few people were paying close attention to his reply.

"You're right, guys - I do know something you don't know. For the last time, I did not put my name in that _sodding_ goblet! The only way I know how to get past an Age Line is to wait a few years. Look, pass the word will you? I didn't bloody do it. I didn't ask anyone else to do it. I have no idea who did it or why, and if I did then I'd be torn between killing them myself or telling McGonagall and letting her do it. I don't want to be in this Tournament, I swear I don't. Cedric's the Hogwarts champion - I'm just trying not to die,and hoping I might hang onto some shred of dignity through all this."

One Weasley twin turned to the other.

"Tricksy little midget isn't he, brother mine?"

"Tricksy indeed, o brother, and a clever tongue to boot."

They carried on, and some others joined in, but Harry had given up for now. He concentrated on eating as fast as he could, doing his best to ignore the banter swirling around him. As soon as he finished, he slipped away without a word. Much to their surprise, though, he didn't head for the door. Instead he walked nervously towards the Hufflepuff table, eyes searching the lines of seated students. Target found, he then made a beeline for one particular handsome sixth-year.

"Cedric, do you have a moment? I really need to speak with you."

Cedric seemed utterly taken aback, but after a look at Harry's expression he allowed himself to be pulled away. The look he gave the younger boy, however, was anything but friendly.

"OK Potter, what's so important? I think we both know what you did and how I feel about it, so I hope you haven't dragged me across here to spin me another line about that."

Harry glared at him for a moment, then grinned.

"Well, I was telling the truth - I really didn't put my name in that Goblet, and I have no idea who did. But I know you're not going to believe me, so I wouldn't drag you here to tell you that. What I wanted to say is that as far as I'm concerned you're the Hogwarts champion, and I've just said the same thing to the whole Gryffindor table. Cedric, I'm scared of this tournament. I'm bloody terrified. I get good marks in Defence, but I'm an undersized fourth-year - there's no way I can compete with you. So I'm not going to. I'll show up at the tasks, because otherwise I lose my magic, but I don't actually have to try my hardest. Whatever the tasks are, I should be able to show up and make some token effort without getting myself hurt or looking too stupid. That's all I want, honestly."

Cedric was staring thoughtfully at Harry. "You really mean that, don't you?"

Harry nodded. "Definitely. I mean, I know this might be hard to believe after everything that's happened in the last three years, but I don't actually want to die."

As Harry walked towards the door, he found himself suddenly flanked by lanky redheads.

"Harry, we were thinking -"

"- we do that, you know -"

"-you should try it sometime -"

"- anyway, we were thinking -"

"- about your plan -"

"- to skive off the tasks."

"And we were thinking -"

"- you might like some help -"

"- potentially even _our_ help -"

"- to make things more interesting when you do."

Harry glanced back and forth between them as the they walked with him up a staircase, and he wore a thoughtful frown. A few quiet seconds after they finished, however, his face broke into an enormous grin.

"Well... I've said I'm not actually going to be doing the tasks properly, so I suppose I'm going to have a bit of time to kill with a lot of people watching me. It'd really be rather a pity to waste that sort of an opportunity, wouldn't it?"

The Twins now wore identical manic grins. Turning to Harry, they gave exaggerated salutes before vanishing purposefully.


	3. Chapter Three: Declaration

**Chapter Three: Declaration**

When Harry returned to Gryffindor common room, he found Hermione waiting for him.

"Harry," she said once she'd dragged him to a quiet corner, "you have to tell Sirius about being entered in the Triwizard Tournament. He's going to find out anyway - you know it'll be in the papers within a day or two - and he'll be really hurt if you don't tell him yourself. You should send him a letter."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I'll do that now, at least a quick note."

After fetching quill, ink and parchment from his trunk, he settled down in the common room to write.

_Dear Sirius,  
You told me to keep you posted on what's happening at Hogwarts, and it'd be a bit terrible if you learned this from the papers instead of hearing it from me. I'm not sure if you know about the Triwizard Tournament, but it's happening at Hogwarts this year. What's more, someone did something to the Goblet of Fire and now I have to compete as a fourth champion. Most of the school thinks I entered myself, though I'm starting to persuade some of them. Ron was really upset but I talked him around last night - yelled at him actually, but it worked. Hermione never had any doubts - she's the one who told me to write this letter, by the way. I think I've convinced the Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory (6th year Hufflepuff), but I don't think the rest of his house believes me. Gryffindor basically thinks I'm a legend, which is annoying - I really do get sick of it. Slytherin thinks it's great - another excuse to cause trouble. Ravenclaw hasn't really decided yet, which is a nice change from everyone else ever._

_Anyway, don't worry about me getting hurt or killed in the tournament - Ron pointed out that I don't actually have to try hard at these tasks (whatever they are), so I'm basically just going to show up and do nothing. Well, not quite nothing - you'll be happy to know that the Weasley twins are making plans for me to make things more interesting. I'll let you know how that goes._

_Nothing much happening other than that, except that I'm feeling more relaxed than I ever have before. Honestly, it's amazing how much better I feel now that I'm not so worried about doing everything that everyone wants me to do. I'm a bit worried about what Dumbledore will do when he finds out what I'm doing, but that's all._

_Hope you're okay, and Buckbeak - Harry_

Harry had addressed the letter and was about to head off to the Owlery to send the letter when Hermione stopped him.

"I'll take it, Harry - you know you can't use Hedwig, and she'd be offended if you refused her."

Harry nodded gratefully and handed the letter over, and Hermione and Ron wandered off towards the Owlery.

* * *

Their first class the next morning was Herbology, with the Hufflepuffs. Professor Sprout was noticeably cold towards Harry at first, so he took the first opportunity to go and speak to her while the rest of the class was working (Neville, his partner, was more than capable of working alone for a few minutes).

"Professor Sprout," Harry said nervously, "I'm not trying to take Cedric's glory. As I told him, there's no way I can do anything in the Tournament except make a fool of myself and maybe die."

"Then what possessed you to enter your name?"

"Nothing. I didn't do it."

She stared at him suspiciously. "Can you prove that, Mr Potter?"

He shrugged helplessly. "How? I've already told the Gryffindors that Cedric's the real Hogwarts champion, and I've already told Cedric that I'm not going to be taking the tasks seriously."

Professor Sprout looked surprised.

"I'm considering making an announcement at dinner tonight - could you arrange that, do you think?"

The dumpy witch positively beamed. "Of course, Harry, of course. I'm sorry for doubting you."

* * *

Their afternoon class was Charms, and Harry found himself fascinated by the lesson. Now that he had stopped worrying so much about the expectations that people put on him, he was somehow more interested in what he was learning. He also found it easier now that other worries weren't getting in the way, and now that he was approaching it from interest rather than just because he had to. After all, as a Triwizard champion he didn't have to take exams this year - if he wanted to, he could just stop showing up to classes. He wasn't in any hurry to test that, but it did help him to relax and (surprisingly) enjoy himself.

At dinner, Harry ate quickly and quietly. Sure enough, Professor Sprout soon caught his eye and motioned him to come up to the Head Table. When he reached her, she cast _Sonorus_ on herself and addressed the Hall.

"Excuse me, everyone. Harry Potter has something he wants to say to you all."

She cast the same spell on Harry as he stepped forward, and he faced the students with a calmness that he hadn't expected.

"Alright, I'll keep this short. I didn't put my name in the Goblet. I don't know who did. I didn't ask anyone else to put my name in for me. I didn't want to be in the Tournament, and I still don't.

"Look, I shouldn't be in the Tournament. Everyone here knows that, really. I'm only a fourth-year, and there's no way I can seriously compete with the actual champions. Cedric _is_ the real Hogwarts champion, and realistically the Tournament will be between Cedric, Fleur and Viktor, no matter what I do. So I'll show up to the events, because apparently I lose my magic if I don't, but there's no way I'm risking my life in a contest that I didn't enter and where I'm so far out of my depth."

A stunned silence fell throughout the hall. Gryffindor as a whole was crestfallen and somewhat betrayed. Ravenclaw was surprised. Hufflepuff was astonished and tentatively grateful. Slytherin was just confused, as were Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Harry walked quickly and quietly back to his friends and his dinner, ignoring everyone and everything else.


	4. Chapter Four: The Weighing of the Wands

**Chapter Four: The Weighing of the Wands**

The next morning, Harry was rather relieved when an over-excited Colin Creevey fetched him out of what was shaping up to be an exceptionally unpleasant Potions class. Snape made a few vicious parting comments about Harry's celebrity status and personal worthlessness, but Harry found himself blessedly indifferent to the man. In the end, Snape's words just weren't worth much.

Colin led Harry to a fairly small classroom, which had been rearranged to look sort of official. Ludo Bagman was sitting one one of five chairs behind a row of tables at the front of the room, talking to an unfamiliar witch in magenta robes. Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner, not talking to anyone. Cedric and Fleur were chatting amiably - Harry noted that Fleur looked the happiest that he'd seen her so far. Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, and jumped up excitedly.

"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come... nothing to be afraid about, it's just a wand-weighing ceremony. The rest of the judges will be here in a moment - "

"Wand weighing?" said Harry uncertainly.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman. "The expert's upstairs with Dumbledore - they'll be down in a moment. And then there'll be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter" - gesturing to the witch in the magenta robes - "and she'll be writing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet..."

"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter thoughtfully, giving Harry a frankly predatory stare. Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable, and studied her more closely.

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls, contrasting oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled glasses. The fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in long crimson-painted nails. Harry decided rather abruptly that he really didn't like her.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman, still staring at Harry. "The youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of colour?"

"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is, if Harry has no objection?"

Harry was already backing away from Rita's outstretched hand, his wand drawn and ready. "No!" he yelled, a little louder than he'd intended. The room fell silent, and Harry took the moment to consider his options. When he spoke, his voice was sure.

"Miss Skeeter, I'm sorry, but I'm not going anywhere with you. I have nothing to say to you that I can't say in front of everyone here. I'm happy to give you a story, though."

Skeeter looked uncertain, but couldn't resist the possibility of a juicy story from the Boy Who Lived. She leaned forward, notepad ready. Harry smiled faintly.

"I didn't put my name into the Goblet of Fire in the first place. I didn't ask anyone else to do it for me, and I don't know who did it. I didn't want to be in this tournament, and I still don't. I'm the least important champion here - it's the other three who should be getting all the attention. If you want to do a story about me, could you do one on who put my name in and what's being done about that?"

Rita looked somewhat stunned, but rallied quickly. This wasn't what she was after, but she could spin it well enough anyway. Inside The Private Hell Of The Boy Who Lived? Plot to Get Boy-Who-Lived Killed? The Resentment Of The Boy Who Lived? She'd think of something good. She smiled.

Before Bagman could recover and regain control of the room, Dumbledore entered with Mr Ollivander - Harry recognised the rather creepy old wandmaker from Diagon Alley three years earlier. Close behind them came Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and Mr Crouch. Dumbledore introduced Ollivander, and then the judges all sat down. Ollivander stepped into the middle of the room and called Fleur over. She handed her wand over, and he tested it quickly and efficiently - creepy or not, the man certainly knew his wands. After expressing some doubts about the stability of veela hair as a wand core, he handed the wand back to a visibly-fuming Fleur. Harry made a mental note to avoid annoying the French champion - he didn't fancy getting in the way of a temper like that. She had made unpleasant comments after his name came out of the Goblet, certainly, but this was the first time he'd seen her genuinely offended.

Cedric was next; his wand, an Ollivander creation, was in perfect condition. "Polished it last night," according to Cedric. Then came Harry's wand, which looked beaten and battered and altogether unloved.

"Sorry," said Harry with a hint of embarrassment, "I never really got into the habit of polishing my wand."

His wand worked perfectly nonetheless, and Ollivander's concern for the wand's physical condition seemed swamped by his curiosity about the relationship to Voldemort's wand. Harry saw the effort by which the old man refrained from commenting, and felt validated in his decision not to tell anyone about that connection. He was especially glad that Ollivander managed not to say anything about it in front of Rita Skeeter.

After that there were photos, and Harry found he had very little choice about them. He was pushed and pulled around as Rita and her photographer (a paunchy man whom Harry barely registered as a person) fought over which of the champions should be most prominent in the group photos. Then came individual photos, which were marginally less uncomfortable, and then they were finally free to go.

After dinner, Harry found a school owl waiting on his pillow - a letter from Sirius, as it turned out.

_Harry,_

_I'm glad you seem to have some sense - probably more than I had at your age, truth to tell, and definitely more than your dad did. I'd tell you to be very careful in this tournament, but you know that already. Harry, try not to worry about what people think of you. I had a lot of that when I was at school - some people hated me because of my family, other people loved me because I was a Marauder, and so on. I let it get to my head for a few years there, and I'm not too proud of the person I was back then._

_I'm glad you're happier now, and especially that you're not being pushed around so much. Be your own man, Harry - be yourself, and damn anyone who wants you to live for them instead of for yourself._

_Love, Sirius_

_P.S. Buckbeak's brilliant._


End file.
